Christ the King/Reign of Christ (C)
November 23, 2025
Jeremiah 23:1-6; Psalm 46;
Colossians 1:11-20; Luke 23:33-43
INTRODUCTION
On this last Sunday of the church year, we celebrate Christ the King Sunday, sometimes called Reign of Christ. Interestingly, this is a fairly new addition to the church year – this year is the day’s 100th birthday! Pope Pius XI instituted it in 1925 (and Lutherans adopted it some 50 years later). In a world then ravaged by World War I, and the emergence of communism in Russia, secularism in the west, and fascism in Spain and Italy (with Germany close behind), it was hoped that raising up Christ’s humble kingship would offer a counter, a needed alternative to these scary regimes. Now, still 100 years later, stating the need for this alternative sort of reign still matters! We are still constantly reckoning with the goals and ways of earthly world leaders versus the way that God rules.
Today’s texts offer us some different pictures of what a godly rule looks like. You will see a God who protects, and gathers together rather than scatters, and rescues, and reconciles, and forgives – we will even see in our Gospel reading which takes us to Jesus’ crucifixion, a king who forgives criminals with his last breath. Ours is certainly a remarkable king! As you listen to these texts, listen for what else you notice about the nature of our true king, and what his nature says about what we are called to be and do. Let’s listen.
[READ]
Grace to you and peace from the one who is and who was and who is to come. Amen.
Luke’s passion story, part of which we just heard, includes my favorite moment of all the passion narratives. It is unique to Luke’s Gospel: it is the moment when Jesus hangs on the cross, having been beaten, flogged, and mocked, and now he forgives those who persecute him, and tells the criminal beside him, “Today you will be with me in paradise.” I find this exchange absolutely stunning, as flummoxing as it is comforting. For Jesus to offer forgiveness and salvation in this context – I think incredulously, “What are you doing, Jesus??” and then in amazement, “Who am I, that my God would do this also for me?” As I said, I find it stunning.
Of course the other depictions we hear today of our divine king are also stunning. In Jeremiah, he is a shepherd, gathering the sheep together rather than dividing and destroying them. In the Psalm, God is our refuge and strength and a very present help in time of danger. Colossians focuses on Christ’s “strength” and “glorious power,” which he shares with us.
These are all good descriptions of what I would expect from a king, and indeed what first century Jews expected of a king: someone mighty, who saves, and leads, and unites, and protects, and inspires, and brings peace to a hurting people! Yes, please! But then we get to Luke’s description of the kingly Christ, and we are stopped in our tracks. This is not the picture of a king that first century Jews expected, nor is it the one that we would wish for or describe, if left to our own devices. This so-called king, with his crown of thorns, looks weak, beaten down by the enemy, complacent. There is nothing of the “glorious power” of Colossians, nor the refuge and strength from the Psalm, nor the protector from Jeremiah.
What do we do with this disconnect? It has brought up two questions for me this week: first, if this is indeed our king, this man hanging on a cross, accepting abuse, forgiving his persecutors, and inviting criminals to join him in paradise – if this is our king, then what does it mean for us as followers of this king? And second, does this picture inform what we should expect of our secular rulers?
First, what does such a king mean for that king’s followers? Generally, we imagine that the followers will emulate their leader, right? Well here, Jesus shows us something about how to handle conflict. Here he is, in the midst of the worst moment of his life. His adversaries are angry and cruel. He’s been publicly flogged, beaten within an inch of his life, and now hangs on a cross to die, while those who love him stand by and say nothing. In the face of any one of those things, I’d expect Jesus to react by lashing out at his betrayers, or seeking revenge, or insulting people back – that’s certainly what I would want to do! But instead, Jesus forgives them. He side-steps that visceral human reaction we often have to stressful or painful situations, and he simply forgives those causing him harm, and offers salvation even to criminals.
That is the king that God gave to God’s broken people: not a ruler who lashes out, who wields the sword, who attacks and counter-attacks, who uses people’s faults against them, nor even one who saves himself, when he totally could have. He could have snapped his fingers and used his glorious power to get out of the whole thing! But no, the king that God gives to God’s broken and wayward people is one who willingly makes himself vulnerable, who responds to threats with peace, who forgives to the very end, and who offers us the promise of salvation.
And so, to return to my first question: what does this mean for us, as followers of this ruler? Once again, I am both comforted and threatened by the answer, for to be followers of this ruler means to strive for the same: to answer attacks with love, not hatred or even apathy; to respond to other’s cruelty with understanding and compassion, not sword and shield; to constantly remind each other of our dependence on God for our salvation, rather than on fleeting worldly promises. It is a tall order, one that can only be met with the love, power and support of that same king who calls us to this seemingly impossible task.
So, if we expect this from Christ’s followers, what about that second question: is this sort of leadership and behavior what we expect also from our worldly leaders? I have really struggled with this one, because while I want to think I would seek a leader like Jesus, I also think, “This sort of kingship would never work in the real world.” It’s all well and good for Jesus to be this way, but a president? I mean, be honest: if Jesus ran for president, do you think he would get elected? I admit, I don’t. We seek outwardly powerful people to be our leaders, just like centuries of Jews, who were asking God for a mighty ruler to fight off their oppressors and use a strong arm to save them from their enemies. Except, that “powerful” ruler they requested came as a babe in a manger, and grew up a homeless peasant, and spent his life fraternizing not with the rich and powerful but with the marginalized, who didn’t punish but forgave the most despised of society (including those who hurt and accused him!), who lifted up and fought for the lowly, and who, in the end, brought all people to himself.
All this, yet his “strength” and “glorious power” came from his very willingness to be vulnerable, from his willingness to forgive, from his attention to the poor and needy, the marginalized and disenfranchised. This is still, decidedly, powerful, but it’s a power unlike what we are accustomed to seeing.
Yet what if we did expect this from our leaders? What would such leadership look like in today’s world? If Jesus were president, whom would he defend, with whom would he fraternize, and to whom would he reach out?
This week I attended a presentation on the ELCA’s newest social statement, called Faith and Civic Life: For the Well-being of All. Social statements are study documents meant to govern and guide the moral discernment of our members. This one, as you might guess from the title, provides a Lutheran view on living out our faith, and the call to care for all creation, in the public sphere. The presentation got me thinking deeply about what our call to be Christ-like means in our civic life, or said another way, how to be patriotic Americans who are also living out our faith in civil society. I wonder if part of it might be to ask these questions about how Christ would reign in America today, and then to hold our elected leaders accountable to that – accountable to caring for the most vulnerable among us, and to seeking peace and reconciliation. The social statement talks about how Luther understood God to be working not only in the heavenly realm, but also in the temporal or earthly realm, and in a democracy, we have a role and voice in that, as well. We provide and communicate the voice and will of God, as we understand it through Jesus Christ, in civil society. This is the argument for engaging in faith-based advocacy.
And then beyond that, living out our faith in public means we fight for those same things President Jesus would. To work in whatever way we are able to bring about Christ’s reign here on earth, through our prayers and petitions, our love and compassion, our faith-full voices. We bring about Christ’s reign through our willingness to use our particular gifts and positions for helping those in need, but also through our willingness to forgive, and to show God’s love through word and deed to the people who Jesus himself cared for and prioritized: the hungry, the stranger, the sick, and the marginalized.
So that is my Christ the King Sunday hope and prayer this year: that we would all seriously consider how Christ would reign in this time and place, and then do all we can to make that reign a reality, in America and in the world – not by making this a “Christian nation,” but by making it a nation that acts like Christ. May we all seek first the kingdom of God and its righteousness, knowing that Christ, our true king, works with us, providing us what we need to do it.
Let us pray… Christ, our King, we thank you for being our ultimate ruler, for showing us what a just society, a righteous kingdom, can look like, and for empowering us to seek that kingdom. Guide us to work with you to bring that kingdom upon this earth, by the strength of your glorious power. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment